Depth of a Soul
by Cyansan
Summary: Harry has a unique reaction to Umbridge's blood quill. After having passed out from his latest detention in the halls, he is found by Snape, of all people, and is brought to Snape's personal quarters. Changes are occurring, fates are turning, and blood is spilt. Hogwarts sees a different sort of Harry. Slash. Rated 18 (Next Chapter Delayed)
1. Lost in Thoughts & Memeries

_**Depth of a Soul**_

 _ **By CyanSan**_

* * *

 _Warning: Slash, Foul-Language, Tiny-bit-of-angst, Sarcasm, Cynicism, Darkish Harry._

 _ **Rating:**_ _ **18+**_ _(Note for Sensitive or Young Eyes)_

 _Pairings: Undecided. Possible Main Pairings;_

 _HP/Severus Snape?, HP/Voldemort(Aka Tom Marvolo Riddle)?, OR HP/Severus Snape/Voldemort?_

 _Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership on the Harry Potter series. All rights, and acknowledgements from the story from this chapter go to the Great Goddess of writing J.K Rowling_ _except what comes from my own devious mind._

* * *

 _ **Chapter 1: Lost in Thoughts, and Memories.**_

* * *

Harry's bleeding hand hung limply at his side. The words 'I will not tell lies' was now forever etched, and scarred into his flesh due to the dark magic from his multiple detentions with the farce of a professor known as Umbridge.

He had tired to go to both McGonagall, and Dumbledore about it, but both had brushed him off about it. Both of them saying he was just exaggerating his treatment by the pink ministry toad, both saying that he should just try to keep his head down, and not make any trouble for himself.

He was sick of their bloody reluctance to listen to him or to do anything in regards to his well being. He was beyond frustrated, and beyond furious with them, he was just plain done with everything that had to do with the headmaster, and his useless head of house. Harry was plain done trying with them.

Harry sighed aloud, and shook himself from the memories as he walked down the dark, empty maze-like halls of Hogwarts towards where he believed his dorm room is in his anemic hazy-minded state.

Harry couldn't help, but recede back into his darkest memories whilst he listened to the rhythmic blood dripping from his hand to the ancient stone floors. He just couldn't help, but wander back into his memories of his dark, bleak years at the supposedly safest place in Britain, Hogwarts.

He thought bitterly at how at just eleven years old he had been forced to become a killer, and be praised because of it.

A dark part of himself whispered to him about how suspicious it was for three eleven year olds to just bypass the tasks set by Dumbledore to protect the stone from the Dark Lord himself. Harry couldn't help himself, but think that it wasn't just a coincidence that it was set up that way as well how Dumbledore was not in Hogwarts that day or how suspicious it was that the man showed up at the last minute possible.

Harry's dark thoughts, and memories continued as his steps faltered slightly from the blood loss.

He remembered how the students isolated him in second year for his supposed 'Dark' gift of Parsletongue. Harry remembered their disgusted betrayed looks of hatred.

He thought to himself how strange it was that none of the teachers thought to stop it. Stop the cruel words, actions, and wrongful bullying for something he couldn't control.

The darker side of him thought that the teachers agreed with the students on the subject of his gift, why else would they allow the cruel words and isolation to continue if they didn't agree with it in the first place?

Harry's thoughts wondered onto why Dumbledore hadn't known about the basilisk as he was a teacher at the time when the Chamber of Secrets was first opened, or why no one had asked Myrtle on what happened on the eve of her death? Shouldn't at least Hagrid want the truth to the death he was accused of causing? Harry's dark wanderings brought him to why nobody could figure out what was causing the attacks. He knows that there couldn't be that many magical creatures that could petrify (or kill) with a glance, and not many magical creatures that Salazar Slytherin would have kept in his chambers or would have survived in it for so long, so why wouldn't anyone want to figure out what was causing the attacks? Did they truly not care about the students being petrified?

A darker part of him wondered if any of the parents of the students were contacted about the attacks, or even if the students themselves were told. Was any one informed about any of the dangerous occurrences that happened here at Hogwarts during his years here?

Harry put his head in his left unscarred hand as his vision started to go a bit black around the edges. His back fell against the hard stone wall heavily so as not to fall over from a sudden wave of dizziness, and nausea. He was only vaguely aware that he was somewhere near the dungeons, and not anywhere near Gryffindor Tower like he was trying to head towards.

Harry thought back onto his third year. He pondered on just why no one (not even the Board of Governors or the parents of any of the students) had more strongly refused to have the Dementors on school grounds. Harry also wondered why nobody had more strongly guarded the Dementors from him or more importantly the other students, or just shield the students from the presence of the beings as he recalled many of the soul suckers had given the students nightmares from just being around them.

Harry wondered why no one took their claim that Sirius was in the Tower that night seriously, or why they didn't move us from the rooms he had proved he could gain access to afterwards. Harry knew now that Sirius was innocent, but at the time Sirius was still his parents betrayer to him, so why was everyone around him so unconcerned? Harry also was vaguely concerned as to why no one gave Sirius a trial, even Bellatrix Lestrange had gotten a trial, and she was caught red-handed as she was torturing the Longbottom's.

'Maybe,' he thought hazily,' it was done purposefully'

He recalled that Sirius was to take over guardianship over him and how he came from a notoriously dark family.

'The light wouldn't want would they?,' he thought darkly. Dark thoughts on likely scenarios of why he was placed with the Dursley's on the back of his mind that wouldn't involve reasoning's of supposed blood wards to protect him from death eaters.

Harry sagged further against the cold wall, and slide down it, his eyes growing a bit more hazy. He wondered morbidly on just how much blood he's lost to Umbitch's damned blood quill for his limbs to be going slightly numb.

Harry was dragged back into his memories of the previous year. He remembered everyone's faces of the same hatred, and betrayal of his second year on all of the student-body's faces, and Dumbledore's quick furious look of disapproval before he could even defend himself, or explain he never entered the damned tournament (or wanted to) to begin with.

Harry remembered how he was forced into competing in fear of losing his magic, even though he wasn't of age to compete or to be involved with magical contract anyways.

Harry remembered Ron's, and Hermione's betrayal, and disbelief in him. He was then reminded of both Ron, and Hermione's jealousy, and their quick betrayals all over again throughout the years.

Harry remembered the graveyard, the ritual, and then Voldemort himself. He remembered the pain of the Torture Curse that was inflicted on him. He was reminded of Cedric's lifeless eyes as he dragged his corpse to the cup turned portkey via his accidental magic to Cedric's father who thought him his son's murderer.

Harry remembered the newspapers slandering his name. He remembered them calling him an insane attention seeking liar rather than face the truth that he wasn't, indeed, lying.

'The scar does say 'I must not tell lies' after all,' Harry thought dryly.

He remembers never receiving a single owl, or word this summer as he was locked away with the Dursley's to be starved, beaten, and worked like a slave while he was watched on by Dumbledore's little club like nothing was wrong.

Harry's eyes began to grow more unfocused, and his body became more limp as he heard the heavy drops of his life blood falling to the cold, cruel stone of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He was so tired. Tired mentally, emotionally, physically, and magically. Harry was tired of fighting. He was tired of being manipulated, and lied to. He was just tired of it all.

Harry only vaguely heard Professor Snape call out to him before he blacked out to Morpheus.

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 **End Chapter 1.** Posted 3/26/2016. Edited 5/8/2016 2:17 A.M.


	2. Forced to See the Truth

_**Depth of a Soul**_

 _ **By CyanSan**_

* * *

 _Warning: Slash, Foul-Language, Tiny-bit-of-angst, Sarcasm, Cynicism, Darkish Harry._

 _ **Rating:**_ _ **18+**_ _(Note for Sensitive or Young Eyes)_

 _Pairings: Undecided. Possible Main Pairings;_

 _HP/Severus Snape?, HP/Voldemort(Aka Tom Marvolo Riddle)?, OR HP/Severus Snape/Voldemort?_

 _Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership on the Harry Potter series. All rights, and acknowledgements from the story from this chapter go to the Great Goddess of writing J.K Rowling_ _except what comes from my own devious mind._

* * *

 _ **Chapter 2: Forced to See the Truth.**_

* * *

 _ **(Snape's P.O.V)**_

The potion master was just about to finish his rounds when he spotted the figure of his most hated student sitting sagged up against the stone wall next to his personal quarters. He was just about to rip into the boy, but froze just after getting the first syllables of Potter out of his mouth when he saw the young man's eyes roll into the back of his head in a dead faint.

Severus Snape's breath caught in his throat as he starred at the prone figure of Harry Potter, his breath then hitched as the flickering flames from the nearby sconces reflected on the trail of wet crimson blood left by the boy and the bloodied words of 'I must not tell lies' that was scarred into the fifteen year olds pale slender hand.

A burning fury ran hot through his veins as he took in the scene.

He had seen several cases of the student body suffering because of the damned toad's blood quill. Severus had already brought it to the headmaster's attention, yet the old bastard hadn't done a damned thing about it! How could Dumbledore allow this to go on for so long? How much longer will the old coot continue to harm the students or continue with his willful ignorance in thinking that the world is just all lemon drops and goodness when it isn't?

'Damned Dumbledore!,' Severus raged internally,' Does the bastard know or even care that his precious golden boy is among the many others tortured by that bitch?!'

He kneeled next to the pale form of his childhood enemy's and once friend's son, shame cooling his heated blood as he took stock of the state of the injured boy. Severus could tell that the boy had to have been subject to a blood quill at least ninety to one-hundred times for Potter's body to reach his current state.

How did he not realize what Potter was being subjected to in her torture sessions in detention when he could with the others whom have been tortured by her? Did he really hate the boy's father so much that he subconsciously chose to ignore the signs of the forced usage of a blood quill?

Severus with only a tick of a second of hesitation picked up the small form, and frowned, this couldn't possibly be the weight of a fifteen year old teen. He shook his head at the sudden impossible thought that the wizarding world's savior could possibly be abused.

He froze instantly after the thought in the doorway to his quarters.

'Abuse? Surely Albus's willful ignorance wouldn't go so far as to control the boy?,' Severus's frown deepened, and his brows furrowed as he sunk deeper in thought, 'No. It was indeed possible, I of all people know that the man goes to almost impossible lengths to ignore the signs of abuse to manipulate others with the perceived weakness into his control as the old coot had done it to me, and to one other that I know of.'

Severus sighed aloud to himself as he carried the too light boy into his quarters, and laid the younger male on his living room couch as gently as he could.

Severus brought out his wand, and cast a full-body history and medical scan on the boy to make sure his thoughts were not just baseless delusion.

He tried to swallow as his throat tightened while he read the too long scan that dated back to when Harry was first left with his relatives.

The boy had broken everything in his body at least twice, all of which were all healed incorrectly. Potter had several concussions from blunt blows to the skull that weren't ever seen to. He had several still infected cuts from whip lashes, malnutrition from starvation and a lack of nutrients, a very long history of bruises, burns, and cuts, and several still bruised and half-healed punctured organs.

The neglect didn't stop from when Potter received his letter and come to school either as he read that he had taken blows from the troll he somehow managed to defeat without proper healing, tearing of the throat were he had almost swallowed the snitch without proper healing, exposure to a wraith when he recovered the stone, nullified basilisk venom by phoenix tears where he was actually bitten by the creature, a basilisk fang shard imbedded in the bone of his arm that hadn't been removed, improper healing of a broken arm where the bone was vanished and regrown, overexposure to multiple Dementors without proper mind-healing, punctured eardrums from exposer to a menfolk's voice and exposure to all of the Unforgivables (Cruciatus Curse, Avada Kedavra Curse, and the Imperius Curse) without any healing what so ever.

The medical scan also showed the boys anemic state that he already knew the boy currently was in.

Severus was sickened that this was done the child, and was more than a little impressed that the boy was still sane and alive as not even his Lord would put anyone though such torture for so long without putting the poor sod out of his or her misery.

How could he himself not notice the boy's suffering? How could he be so idiotic? How could he have been so very blind? Did he really, truly hate Potter's dead father so much so that he would blind himself to believe the boy to be pampered, and spoiled like it was to be believed?

He cursed aloud at Dumbledore's negligence regarding the boys health, and for allowing the abuse to happen to another student when the bastard had promised him he wouldn't allow it to happen ever again.

A chill ran down his spin when he remembered that the old senile bastard was the one who placed Potter with his now obvious abusive relatives.

He really had to have been so very blind to believe that the old bastard would have kept Harry safe.

A hate that he had thought long dead for the old goat fucker returned to him with more force than he thought possible.

Did he really think that the old bastard wouldn't lie to him, and not disregard the promise the man made to him after what the man had forced himself to suffer from with his own abuse at the hands of his father, or all the negligence regarding the students that he's witnessed so far from the man?

He slapped a hand to his forehead. 'Goddess I really am blind,' Severus thought.

Severus summoned some blood replenishers, several different kinds of salves, varies multitudes of healing potions, and conjured some bandages for the boy's bleeding hand so he could begin to heal the years of abuse, and willful neglect that was done to Potter's body.

He knew now he would do right with the boy, and make sure that the old coot wouldn't be able to do anything to the boy.

Severus promised himself that he would take care of Lily's boy, who knows what she would do to him in the afterlife if he didn't do so now after having been so cruel to the boy before.

He had to make up for his behavior to Potter-no-Harry. Harry wasn't his father he knows this now. He can't blind himself any longer to this fact. Harry was just Harry.

Severus sighed as he looked over the list. He would make up to Harry for his cruelty, he just had to.

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End Chapter 2. Posted on 3/30/2016. Edited 5/8/2016 2:32 A.M


	3. Change in Demeanor

_**Depth of a Soul**_

 _ **By CyanSan**_

* * *

 _Warning: Slash, Foul-Language, Tiny-bit-of-angst, Sarcasm, Cynicism, Darkish Harry._

 _ **Rating:**_ _ **18+**_ _(Note for Sensitive or Young Eyes)_

 _Pairings: Undecided. Possible Main Pairings;_

 _HP/Severus Snape?, HP/Voldemort(Aka Tom Marvolo Riddle)?, OR HP/Severus Snape/Voldemort?_

 _Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership on the Harry Potter series. All rights, and acknowledgements from the story from this chapter go to the Great Goddess of writing J.K Rowling_ _except what comes from my own devious mind._

* * *

 _ **Chapter 3: Shift in Demeanor.**_

* * *

 **(Harry's P.O.V)**

Harry shot right up as he awoke, his breathing harsh and labored as pain shot through his chest and mind.

Memories of yesterday's hazy revelation flooded his brain, bringing with it oblivated memories of catching Dumbledore plotting against him, catching Ron and Hermione being paid to befriend, influence, and spy on him, and Dumbledore's little plot to get to the rest of the Potter vaults by planning to drug him with love potions to get him to marry Ginny. Memories of visiting Gringotts burst through his brain where he received his multiple lordships, and the reveal of the thefts from his trust fund. Memories of how he was drugged with loyalty, mind altering and personality altering potions sprang into his mind.

Harry clutched his head as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to rein in his magic that was rippling angrily just beneath his skin wanting to be chaotically unleashed upon the traitorous lying betrayers of the supposed light side.

He took in a deep breath as he pushed the anger behind his fragile damaged mind shields, thankfully succeeding in making his magic remain passive.

He let out his breath as he remade and reinforced his almost completely broken mind shields, angrily remembering how Dumbles had forcefully broken through his mind shields then oblivated him afterwards just because he needed his soul link to Voldemort to be continuously open to the bastard so he could receive 'visions' from him involuntarily.

Gritting his teeth before he shock himself forcefully of the anger to focus on fixing the damage done to his mind.

Surprisingly, he quickly found himself in a meditative trance. Moments into the trace, Harry found himself in his mindscape.

Harry's mindscape was not at all surprisingly in the form of a maze-like great library with his love for knowledge. A love which was potioned and influenced out of him sense attendance by the bossy bitch and gluttonous traitor on Bumbles orders. A great liberty that was currently in ruins at the damage caused to it by Dumblewhore with not only shattering his shields, but with his multitude of potions he's doused him and obliviates Dumblebore's inflicted on him.

Harry's anger threatened to bubble up again, but he forcefully swallowed it to focus on his task of repairing his mind and mindscape.

Harry with slight ease thoughly repaired, and sorted the book shaped memories into their rightful places on the sturdy ebony shelves of the tall bookcases, gaining a few extra memories he had lost and details to others that he once missed. Reinforcing his shields to maximum and adding more traps to those who enter or try to enter his mindscape without his permission, and a nasty surprise for any who would try to shatter his shields or influence his mind.

He left his mindscape as quickly as he entered it.

Harry opened his eyes and took a look around his surroundings in a room which he supposed was Snape's living quarters, a small smile on his lips as he figured Snape had healed him rather than taking him to the mind controlled puppet of Bumblebutt's to be just patched up.

Pulling off his useless glasses and disengaging the glamour that Dumbledore had placed upon him to look more like his father when the bastard had placed him with the Dursley's so he would be abused and easily controlled.

Harry swallowed harshly, and clutched his throat as he felt a burning pain as well as an overwhelming dryness attack it.

'Well this is new,' Harry thought dryly as he fought with himself not to claw out his own throat to relieve himself of the burning painful itchiness that thoroughly filled his throat.

As he tried to stand to get some water to relieve his parchedness he doubled over onto the thick blood red rug on the floor as an intense hunger shocked through his whole being making his stomach clench in agony worse than the Cruciatus Curse inflicted by Lord Moldy himself ever was.

Harry knows hunger, but this overtook any hunger he ever was prey to at the Dursley's, his eyes widened as he bit down on his lips to distract himself from the pain, only succeeding in puncturing them rather than distract himself from the all-encompassing hunger he feels.

'I don't remember my teeth ever being sharp enough to puncture skin' Harry thought slightly alarmed at the change. He swiftly conjured a mirror and froze at the sight of himself.

He had overgone a few changes since he last removed the glamour.

Harry's once chin length messy black hair had grown falling like soft ravens feathers to just past his shoulder blades, and his skin became a shade paler to an almost marble or porcelain like white. He looked to have grown a lot coming up to about maybe six feet two inches with more strong, more defined muscles than previous.

Harry's eyes were shaped sharper and more intimidating, and his once grass green eyes glowed the color he was so famed after surviving.

The shape of his face became sharper, angular, and more aristocratic as his high cheekbones jut out more, his jaw narrower ending in a pointed chin, nose more straight, eyebrows more perfectly shaped and curved, and thin pale pink lips curved into an almost natural smirk.

He watched fascinated as two beads of blood welled from the wound as he withdrew his teeth, making his stomach growl at the sight. Opening his mouth he inspected the perfectly straight white teeth that now included two elongated canines.

He quickly put two and two together as he could only hypothesize why he was now feeling what he was feeling and why he was seeing what he was seeing.

A possible reason that he could think of as to why he was feeling this overwhelming hunger, why he was feeling his throat being more painfully itchy than he was used to, why he was seeing his canines more elongated than before, and why he was seeing some changes to his appearance that wasn't there before.

'I'm a bloody blood-sucker aren't I,' Harry mused unsure how he was supposed to feel about this new predicament he found himself in. He, however unsure he was about it, knew that he wasn't going to allow the Stupistry, Bumbles, and the Dark Wanker to catch wind of his new found tastes.

He banished the mirror, and stretched slightly as he thought he should probably set out to find his dark savior. As he was just about to get up to find Snape he froze like a deer in head lights as he was suddenly overwhelmed by an intoxicating scent that called out to his blood.

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 **End Chapter 3.** Posted 5/8/2016. Edited 5/8/2016 2:51 A.M


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